Long Lived Nightmare
by Wolfrunner99-2
Summary: Mike has a problem. Things keep trying to kill him. Mainly the animatronics of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. They just won't give up, and they are will to go to extreme measures to do so. Mike gains the help of some even bigger robots and makes some friends that will last him forever. Contains slight gore and blood, as well as swearing, so rated T! You have been warned!
1. Chapter 1

Why him? Why did it always happen to him? Why couldn't it ever happen to someone else? Why did robots just HAVE to try to kill him? First in Mission City, he had been recovering in the hospital and ordered to go home because there were too many patients from the giant robot smackdown outside his window, which had been destroyed along with the wall.

Now, the Marine wasn't bitter about being sent home. He was bitter that he didn't actually HAVE a home at the time. He had been recruited by the Marines before he had even graduated, and he had lived on a training base from his graduation at the top of his class to his being deployed and his team being massacred in a firefight. He had nearly been one of those that died, having two direct shots to the chest and shrapnel attempted to tear him apart from the inside out. But he had survived. Just like he had survived the car crash that killed his parents. Just like he had survived getting his skull clamped down metal jaws that started the rumor his frontal lobe had been removed. He always survived when he should have died.

But right now, he was regretting ever taking this job. Night one, and he was already fighting for his life. The phone call he had gotten certainly did not help. Especially because there was a direct mention of what had happened to him.

"H-hey, Foxy, don't even think about coming out of your cove," Mike Schmidt warned, glaring at the tablet as though his glare could seep through it to the disrepaired fox animatronic.

He flipped through the cameras, panicking when he couldn't see Bonnie. He flashed the lights on either side of him, slamming the door upon seeing a leering purple face glaring at him from the darkness beyond.

"Holy shit, that was close," he breathed. He looked at the clock with worry. Five AM. Ten percent power. He hoped he would make it. He didn't want to know what would happen if the power went out.

He didn't believe the whole endoskeleton thing. There was a clearly naked one in the back room and they didn't do anything about it. Bonnie had been inside that room enough times to do it, too, so there had to be a different reason they were attacking the night guards.

He doubled over in pain as sharp knives seemed to suddenly attack his chest. He was getting too worked up. Too stressed. His heart rate was too high and he was supposed to be taking it easy, getting plenty of sleep. Only, he couldn't sleep. That was one of the reasons he had accepted the night job when he had a decent paying day job that could easily support him just fine. He couldn't sleep without nightmares of what had happened to him being in the forefront of his mind.

He didn't have anyone taking care of him back in his dismal, sparse apartment that he had gotten shortly after the hospital incident. His doctor, though, would, and had, stormed into his apartment when he hadn't shown up to one of his appointments and quite literally dragged him out of his bed and checked him over right in his home.

He blinked as the main generator began to hum and bells began to ring. Six o'clock. He had spent an hour writhing in pain and he hadn't been attacked. Amazing. He doubted that he would have that much luck the next night, though.

"Hey, Mike. You still here?"

Mike looked up at his boss, a jolly, overweight, sweaty man that always had a smile on his face. He also knew what the animatronics did, because he looked so surprised and the way that he had asked Mike if was still there.

"Yes, sir. I didn't want to leave without someone else being here to watch the restaurant. In case someone broke in at that time," Mike lied smoothly.

"Well, get on home then. Try getting some sleep, those bags under your eyes can't be healthy."

"Will do, sir," Mike lied again. There was no way he would be able to go to sleep after what he had just seen.

"See you tomorrow?"

Mike instantly nodded, walking out calmly before standing and wincing, rubbing at his chest.

"You okay there, boy?"

"Yes, sir. I'm fine. Just a little heartburn or something, I'm sure. Have a nice day, Mr. Fazbear."

He walked out to his car and was glad that there wasn't a uniform for the Night Guard job. He just had to show up in his regular clothes and wear the hat. Same with his other job, so long as his clothes didn't have holes in them. He was an engineer for the military, after all. Well, so long as he was recovering, but he made it very clear that he would be returning to active duty as soon as possible.

He drove to work, did his work, and headed back home, managing to eat something, and went to try to sleep until eleven, when he would leave for the pizzeria.

He repeated this process for the next three days, until it came to Friday. He was exhausted, but he had a system when dealing with the animatronics now. He had found out that, one, they could talk, two, they knew he was human, and three, they really didn't like that he was beating them at their little game they played. He was surprised, though, at the relative quietness of that night. As though the animatronics knew that something was going to happen and happen it did. Majorly.

You know, Sam never thought that his night could have gotten worse. He had gotten in a fight with Mikaela. Then he had gotten in a fight with his parents about his fight with Mikaela. Then he got in a fight with Bee about his reluctance to move to the base where they could keep him safe. So, in hope to avoid a fight, he had stalked away, taking paths that Bee could only follow in holoform and Bee hated using his holoform.

But, of course, with his luck, he had run into Barricade. While the enforcer wasn't exactly… dangerous, per say, he had defected to the Autobots, after all, he enjoyed scaring the crap out of Sam and did so whenever the boy left his guardian's safe presence. Meaning now.

"Barricade, go away," he warned, standing outside a down run children's pizzeria, glaring at the menacing mustang that kept inching closer to him, ignoring the curb.

The enforcer just continued, making Sam lean against the door, falling back as it abruptly opened and he tumbled inside.

"Barricade, that's not funny!" he protested as the bot revved his engine in laughter. Barricade backed up, opening his passenger door invitingly. "What, you think I'm going to go with you? You're insane!"

He pulled out his phone upon getting a text message from the black and white mech.

_Bumblebee wants me to return you. He hinted that your argument was not completed._

"You were listening in?" Sam demanded, pulling on the door… only for it not to open. "Uh, Barricade, very funny, how are you keeping the door closed?"

The engine sputtered at the mech's obvious surprise, and he got another text.

_Samuel, turn around!_

Sam instantly spun around, shrinking back against the door at the leering face of a bear animatronic.

"Uh… hi?"

The bear let out a fearsome scream, and Sam, using the same tactic that had saved his life in Mission City, ducked away from reaching arms and took off through the building, somehow managing to stumble into the security rooms, where a heavy metal door slammed down behind him. He locked eyes with the young man sitting in a chair, jumping as the door banged from something hitting it.

"Uh, hi. So, uh, I didn't mean to be in here. I kind of got pushed inside…" Sam explained awkwardly.

"Yeah, I kind of figured. What was with the police car?"

"He has an odd sense of humor. I don't think he knew about the killer animatronic waiting on the other side…"

"Animatronics," the other corrected absently as he glared carefully at a tablet in his hand.

"There are more of them?"

"Four of them all together. Okay, I think Freddy's gone. You in track kid? I didn't think anyone could outrun him!"

"I have practice, robots have a tendency to try to kill me. Uh, could I, uh, help?"

"Help would be good. You aren't the only one robots try to kill. My problem's mainly these guys, but there was these big robots in Mission City. I was in the hospital and my room exploded from the attack."

"I know, I was right in the middle of it," Sam muttered under his breath, picking at the bandages that encased his arms from the All Spark burning through them. "So, um, why do you work here?"

"Can't sleep. Needed something to occupy my time. Nothing like someone trying to kill you to keep you up, eh?"

"Yeah… What's your name?"

"Mike Schmidt."

"Sam Witwicky."

"You're taking all of this pretty well, kid."

"Yeah, I've faced worse than these guys."

Sam's phone buzzed, making him look at the five missed messages from Barricade.

_Samuel, you are so dead._

_Bumblebee is going to offline me for this. _

_Then Ratchet is going to bring me back to life and everyone else is going to kill me._

_Samuel!  
SAMUEL JAMES WITWICKY, LOOKING AT YOUR FRAGGING PHONE, YOU LITTLE GLITCH SPAWNED BRATLING!_

**Chill out, dude, I'm fine. I'm with the security guard in the security room. No killer animatronics in sight.**

Sam tucked away his phone as he heard movement outside the door, slamming the button closed out of instinct. It slammed down just in time for the… fox, maybe? For the pirate looking fox to be locked out.

"_**MIIIIIIIIIIKEEEEEEEEY! Let me in, ye landlubber! Ye can't be hidin' in here forever, lad! Yer gonna be slippin' up an' then we be REALLY startin' the game!"**_

"Go back to your stupid cove, ya piece of roadkill!" Mike snarled back. "You're using up all the power!"

"Wait, what's up with the power?" Sam asked, feeling a little bit of worry at that.

"We have a limited supply. It's been a bad night. It's three AM and we only have fifty percent. I've only lost power once and that was a close one. Freddy was in the room before the power came back on," Mike replied.

"Uh… I'm going to make a phone call," Sam said, going to the back of the tiny office. Not for privacy, more for giving Mike the space he would need if he had to put the doors down quickly.

"_Samuel, I swear, if you got yourself hurt, I am going to crush you!"_

"Uh, no… But I might not be completely fine… There appears to be a limited power supply here… And, you know… We're at fifty percent and only halfway through the night."

"_Samuel, if you are trying to pull a prank on me-"_

"Come see for yourself. You have a- Mike, what's that?" Sam demanded, hearing music.

"Freddy. Fuck. He shouldn't be moving, I've been checking in on him as often as I do Foxy! Uh… Uh… Problem! Power's draining from something, but I don't know what!" Mike said, fear finally beginning to show in him.

Abruptly, the power went out. It was only three thirty. There was no way they were gonna make it to six.

Shit shit shit shit shit! Mike listened for the footsteps, trying to see through the blackness. He grabbed the kid and shoved him down to the ground and under the desk. He pulled out his service pistol, taking careful aim in the direction of the noise.

"Kid, when he goes after me, I'm gonna need you to run. None of the other animatronics'll move when the power's out. If my hunch is right, killing me'll take a few hours, and by then, the power should be back on and you'll be free to go."

"That won't be necessary," a new voice growled from right next to him, and the room somehow lit up with light that came from… the man? He was six, two, full of muscle, black jeans, black boots, white muscle shirt that barely fit, black hair, and, for some reason, black sunglasses. Mike would take a guess that this guy liked the color black.

"Who the hell are you?" Mike demanded, not taking his eyes from the door.

"Cade, Hide's gonna kill you if Mike is killed, just so you know," Sam butted in, his voice quiet, just barely a whisper.

"Shut up, Samuel, neither of you will be dying here, and I'm sure your guardian will kill me far before that trigger happy psycho."

"Why would someone else kill him for ME dying?" Mike asked incredulously, though his look was nothing as the man, Cade, pulled out a service pistol as well.

"Shut up," the man ordered.

Music, that stupid, stupid song began to play, loud and echoing through the building, along with that demented laugh. His chest was beginning to hurt like hell, but he refused to slump like he wanted to. The face of Freddy appeared in the doorway, still laughing.

"I am so getting fired for this," he muttered as he shot at the demonic thing, little effect, other than more laughter.

"_**Guns? How… quaint."**_

"Oh shit."

But the man next to him didn't seem worried at all. In fact, a downright evil smirk formed as the animatronic suddenly doubled over in… pain.

"Your processor is quaint."

The animatronic straightened up, eyes now, well, they weren't really eyes, they were pinpricks. "_**YoU wiLL dIE!"**_

"I've faced worse than you," Cade spat back, the gun just gone and him tackling the robot into the hallway, taking the light with him.

"CADE!" Sam shouted, eyes seeming to glaze over as he saw something else entirely, instead of seeing the holoform grappling with the animatronic demon bear, he saw a blue and red flamed mech fighting to protect him against another demonic sentient robot.

Mike recognized the symptoms of a flashback, hell, he was fighting one back now, and firmly shook the kid's shoulders. "Kid, snap out of it. It's not happening. You need to get back in reality," he ordered.

Sam's eyes refocused, but not on him. They darted around the room, something alien sparking behind them. "Those lights stun them, right?" he demanded.

"Yeah, why-"

"I have a flashlight, and there is stuff around here we can use to make a spotlight of sorts. Don't just move, move!" the kid ordered.

The thing that he made did not look like a spotlight. It looked like a gun. How had the boy, no older than sixteen, manage to make it out of random parts from the room, Mike couldn't figure out, and he was an engineer!

"What is it?"

The kid grinned, picking it up with ease that shouldn't have been possible with his hands wrapped like they were, and walked out of the room into the hallway. "HEY, UGLY!"

Mike couldn't help the snicker as both Cade and Freddy halted their tussle to glare at Sam in offense. Sam pulled the trigger and light flooded out, as well as heat. That was more of a laser than a spotlight!

Cade was suddenly back in the room, glaring at Sam with concerned anger. "Samuel, how did you build that?" he demanded, grabbing his shoulder.

As soon as he did, though, the teen crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

The six o'clock bell rang and the power flooded back on, illuminating them. Freddy didn't look any different than before, Mike didn't think that his bullets had even done anything to him! The animatronic broke from his stupor and glared at them, walking away to the stage before management could come in.

"There is no way I am ever working here again," Mike declared, taking off his hat and setting it on the desk. He wrote a note to Mr. Fazbear, informing him that he would not be taking the overtime option and that he could send the check for his five days there to his apartment.

"You were injured. Come with us," Cade ordered.

"What?"

"You were injured. Your chest is bleeding heavily. I doubt you want to return to the hospital so soon, Lieutenant Schmidt."

Mike stared at him in shock. How had he…

"Remember those big robots in Mission City?" the man asked, smirking knowingly as he carried the unconscious teen out the now unlocked doors.

"Yeah…"

"I'm one of them. You are about to meet more."

"Why don't you just bring me to a hospital?"

"Because I like your spunk and I'm going to use you as a shield to prevent my permanent offlining," was the answer he received.

"Oh… well that's nice to know… Is he going to be alright?"

"No. He is in so much trouble. Hiding that from us. Foolish, foolish, foolish bratling."

"So, you're pretty protective of him?"

"Yes. He is very important to me and my kind. And he has been very stupid. There are many who would not hesitate to kill him for what he has done."

"What did he do?"

"He killed the leader of the Decepticons, and, if my hunch and what he has just shown is correct, absorbed the Allspark, or at least its knowledge."

"Tough break for the kid. Held up pretty good, minus the little flashback session he had."

"When?"

"When you went and tackled the demon bear," Mike answered, waiting as the man carefully maneuvered the teen into the backseat.

"Get in," Cade ordered, the passenger door opening invitingly.

Mike looked between the door and his own car. "I can't just leave my car here…"

"Sure you can."

"Uh, no, I ca-" he couldn't finish his sentence, because just like it had on the first night, pain stabbed its way into his chest and made him fall to his knees, trying to breathe and not getting any air.

He was able to refocus about a five minutes later, confused at the rapidly passing scenery in front of his eyes. Then again at the flashing lights and the blaring siren.

"Wha?"

"Primus, you're breathing again! Don't do that, kid!"

"Oh, yeah, I'll just get right on controlling that," Mike snapped sarcastically. "Right after pigs start to fly."

"Oh, that's hilarious, you should do stand up comedy," the cop car snarked back. Mike realized that there was no one in the driver's seat.

"Uh… there is no one in the driver's seat."

"I am going too fast for humans to notice it," Barricade argued.

"This human noticed it!" Mike reminded.

"Shut it, scar face."

"Ouch. I haven't heard that one EVER! How original," Mike scoffed, curling in on himself and wishing he had the bandana that was in his car that he normally wore to hide the scars.

"How did you get those, anyways?"

"Foxy, when I was a kid… I used to go to that place when my parents were working. Loved it… until one day I was in the Pirate Cove and Foxy stepped off his stage to talk with the kids around the room. He came over to say hi to me like he had a hundred times before, and the next thing I know, my head is in his jaws, people are screaming and I can't figure out was going on. I woke up the next day in the hospital and was told I would have the scars for the rest of my life. I was told it was just a glitch, but then I came to work the nightshift and now I'm not too sure," Mike explained.

"Wow… that really bites."

"Oh, come on, you can do better than that!" Mike snapped, curling in on himself more. This was exactly why he didn't like it when anyone saw him without something covering his head.

"I apologize. I am sure you dislike mentioning it."

"Forget it," he growled.

"As you wish, Liuetenant Schmidt."

"I'm off on leave right now. It's just Mike," Mike corrected.

"Alright. It's Barricade, by the way. Not Cade. I cannot understand then need for shortening a name, Michael."

"It's easier to say and more familiar, Cade."

"Don't call me Cade."

"Don't call me Michael."

"I'll call you whatever I please, Michael."

"Then I'll do the same, Cade."

"Are you afraid of flying?" Cade asked after a few hours of silence.

"No? Why would I be?"

"Because we are going to a military base, and we are taking a cargo jet there."

"What about the kid? You said he had a guardian that was gonna kill you. I mean…"

"His guardian is going to be joining us on our flight. How is your chest?"

Mike realized that he had been rubbing at it to relieve some of the building pain. "It's been worse."

"Why are you not still in medical care?"

"I got kicked out of the hospital when Mission City happened. There were people more injured than I was and they needed my room for someone who was missing an arm, a leg, and half their face. They told me to take it easy and get plenty of sleep."

"Why were you working the nightshift, then?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"How were you injured in the first place?"

"My unit was attacked overseas… it was an ambush on our patrol… Pretty much everyone died… I got shot twice in the chest and a shrapnel grenade blew up right next to me. By all accounts, and not for the first, nor probably the last time in my life, I should have been dead and I'm not."

"When are you to return to active duty?"

"When my doctor says that 'I can go back to active duty without killing myself'," Mike answered, changing his voice to mimic his doctor's.

"When will that be?"

"Months. They weren't able to get the shrapnel out. Said that it would be better if it was just left inside. Too many things in the way," he replied. He sat up straight when they rolled up onto a loading ramp, right next to a bright yellow camaro with black racing stripes. Which then proceeded to rip itself apart until it was standing at fifteen feet at least, a bipedal robot of yellow, black, and chrome.

"BARRICADE!"

"Bumblebee, calm down, Samuel is-"

"Give me back my human!"

Barricade seemed to sigh and Mike's door open. "Please get out, Michael. I need to give Samuel back to his guardian before he glitches with worry."

There was a silent conversation between the two and Sam was carefully maneuvered out of the cab and given to the tall, yellow warrior, who gently held him in his servos, close to his chassis.

Mike nearly fell as the plane took off, having not expected it at all. Barricade steadied him, though, a warm, metal weight on his back keeping him upright.

"How long is this flight?" he asked.

"Two hours."

"I'm gonnna lean against the wall then," Mike declared as he shrugged away from the contact and sat against the cool wall. He closed his eyes but didn't fall asleep, too wary of his current position. It was enough that he didn't notice there was a silent conversation going on without his knowledge.

::Who is the human?::

Barricade sent over all the information he had accumulated about the man named Mike Schmidt, from address to next of kin. Or, rather, lack of next of kin.

::You are bringing him for medical attention?::

::Yes, of course.::

::Why not just bring him to the hospital?::

::Because Ratchet can do better, and he protected Samuel and was willing to die for it.::

::You want to keep him.::

::I do not want to keep some disgusting, damaged fleshling!::

Bumblebee studied his companion for a moment. ::Yes you do.::

::Bumblebee, I do not-::

::Even if you didn't, but you do, he would need a guardian because you exposed him to us and the 'Cons would use him as leverage against at least Sam.::

::You act as though he would accept our help.::

::What makes you think he won't?::

::He thought he could drive. He then proceeded to cease breathing for approximately five minutes. That is stubbornness if I have ever witnessed it. He'll get medical attention, and Prime can decide what to do with him from there.:: Barricade growled.

::... You are just as stubborn as that human, you know that?::

::That human has a name.::

::Yes, that human does have a name.::

::You're an aft.::

::You're going soft.::

Barricade smacked the smaller bot over the head, glaring at him while the other snickered. He glanced at the human leaning against the wall worriedly, not wanting to ruin the potential for recharge Mike had.

::Yeah, you're going soft. Met the human a few hours ago and you're already hovering over him!::

::At least I didn't STALK him.::

::Ouch, Cade. Ouch.::

::DON'T CALL ME CADE!::

::Cade.::

::Bumblebe-::

**::If you two are going to argue, please do so on a private channel. While it is amusing to hear, it does get annoying.::**

Both bots froze at the sound of Optimus Prime's tired voice on the comm.

::Sorry, Prime. We should be arriving in a breem. Cade was correct in saying the human known as Mike Schmidt needs medical attention.:: Bumblebee reported.

**::Yes, we know. Barricade shared the file over the public channel. Ratchet is already waiting.::**

**::We also heard about Cade going soft on us.:: **a gruffer voice added.

::Slaggit, I am NOT going soft, Ironhide!::

**::Keep telling yourself that, mechling.::**

Barricade sulked for the few remaining minutes of flight, and Mike opened his eyes, as though sensing they were going to land soon.

"Hey. Is the kid up, yet?" he asked the yellow bot.

"Negative. We are about to land. Hold onto something," the bot answered kindly.

"Hold on to WHAT?" Mike snapped as the plane shook from hitting the ground. He instinctively grabbed onto the big metal bot standing next to him, though he let go the moment the jet stilled.

It was about two minutes from the loading bay opening and Mike finding himself in some sort of lab with no real understanding of how he got there. "Uh… who are you?" he asked the giant, nearly thirty, if not thirty, foot tall chartreuse mech that hovered over him, scanning.

"Ratchet," came the blunt reply.

"Okay then… can you… back up a little there, Ratchet?" the former night guard asked as the large mech got very close in his personal space bubble to examine his head.

"What caused these?"

"Killer robot. Still not backing up there…"

"Killer robot? Human made, I suppose."

"Yeah… Uh, my head isn't hurt… Can you, um, stop?" Mike asked, highly intimidated by the large mech.

"I apologize. That wound, by all means, should have killed you. I find it fascinating that you are alive."

"That's what my doctor says every time I see him," Mike scoffed.

"Yes. Did he also tell you to rest and to not put yourself in stressful situations?"

"He might have mentioned something about it… To be fair, when I took the night guard job, I didn't think it would be a stressful atmosphere…"

"Then why didn't you quit after the first night?"

"I don't know… I guess it was better than the alternative. I mean, whether I was in my apartment or working, I wasn't going to be in a non stressful situation."

"Are your parents bothering you?"

"My parents were killed in a car crash the same day I left the hospital for getting this," Mike answered dully, pointing to his head. "I was in the car. I don't remember what happened. Car was crushed. Killed them instantly. My doctor said that there was a little pocket in the reckage that saved my life again. I was three years old. So, no, my parents weren't bothering me."

"Adoptive parent?"

"He's my doctor. The only thing he does that's stressful is break into my building and drag me out of bed to make sure I haven't managed to get myself killed, sir."

Mike wasn't quite sure why he added the sir to the end of his sentence, but he knew that this was a military base, and even if the medic was a giant alien robot, he was probably military, too. Might as well be respectful.

"Does he have a name, this doctor of yours?"

"Of course he does, his name is Doctor John Schmidt."

"You took his last name?"

"Yeah… made school a lot easier on me. Don't even remember what my last name was before. Doesn't matter, either."

"I see. Please remove your shirt."

"Do I have to?" Mike whined. "Sir," he added as an afterthought.

"Yes, now move."

Mike reluctantly removed his blood stained shirt, revealing bloodstained bandages underneath. "Oh, shit, the stitches must have torn."

Ratchet removed the bandages and examined the wound, again drawing the conclusion that this man should be dead and just… wasn't.

"Tell me what happened with this."

"Sir, the cop car already interrogated me about it," Mike protested.

"I want more details that two shots to the chest and a shrapnel grenade. The details leading up to it."

"Why, sir?"

"Because I do not know you, Lieutenant, and I am curious as to how your mind works."

"Well, I'd rather keep it that way, if it's all the same to you, sir."

The medic glared at him for a moment, and Mike gave. "Fine. My unit was on patrol about five miles out from base. We weren't paying as much attention as we should have. We were sloppy, and we drove right into an ambush. Driver was dead before we knew what was going on. The truck flipped. We were still inside. Two more dead from that. The seven of us remaining got out of the wreckage and we were shot at from all sides. Shrapnel grenade came and I took the but of the force. Shredded my vest, and my chest... didn't killed me, but it killed two men. The ambushers swarmed in and shot even and left us for dead. They took our supply and… I really thought I was gonna die. My best friend had been knocked unconscious, but his vest had stopped the bullets, ended up saving his life, but his leg had blown up and he was bleeding out fast. I figured that if I was gonna die, I might as well save his life. Do some good, I guess. I managed to make a tourniquet and stop the bleeding and call in for help. Blacked out, woke up back in that hospital with a purple heart and my best friend in a wheel chair. I got signed on as an engineer for the military, I had studied it and all… Just a day job until I'm able to go back to active duty, sir."

"You wish to return to service after what happened to you?"

"Hey, I'm not dead yet. Might as well keep pushing until my luck runs out, sir."

"What did your adoptive father have to say about it?"

"He doesn't know, and he ain't gonna find out soon, sir. I'm twenty three years old, I don't need him hovering over my shoulder when I make my decisions, sir."

"You rose through the ranks quickly, lieutenant," the medic commented.

"Yes, sir, I did. I don't know why, though. Didn't really deserve it. I saw people twice the man I am get ignored and they shouldn't have, sir."

"Now answer me this. Why were you on that patrol, or on that base?"

"Joint mission and they were short staffed. We had been scheduled to leave a right after we returned from the patrol, sir."

"I do not understand how your heart is still beating. There is quite extensive damage around it. I doubt you could have ever recovered enough to return to active duty."

Mike was silent at that news. "Well, shit. Wait, COULD HAVE?"

"I'm going to repair the damage. My medical knowledge far surpasses humans. It will be a painful recovery, though…"

"Please. I have bits of metal clawing through my chest. I doubt it can be worse than that."

"What, you aren't going to argue about it?"

"I was raised by a doctor. I can't remember a time when I ever won an argument with him. I doubt I could with you, sir."

"Interesting. This might hurt," Ratchet warned as he gently inserted an IV into Mike's arm, surprised when the Marine didn't even flinch or blink an eye about it. Ratchet was quite liking his patient. Much better than any of the other soldiers he had treated.

"See ya on the flip side," Mike said as he felt the effects of the drug beginning to work. He woke up again and yelped, flinching back at the familiar face glaring down at him, arms crossed, anger and concern clear on the forty year old man's face.

"You have precisely five seconds to begin telling me what happened," John Schmidt growled.

"Uh… Well… you see… I may have take a job as a night guard at Freddy's Pizzeria… and it might have been a stressful situation, sir," Mike answered, staring at the ceiling and not at his angered parent.

"You did _what? Michael James Schmidt, _you did _what_?" John demanded, his voice not raising, but it did gain an edge to it.

"I took a job at Freddy's Pizzeria and the animatronics tried to kill me."

"Again."

"Yeah. Again."

"Didn't I tell you that you weren't to go to that place again and that you were to be relaxing? You're still recovering from what happened to you overseas!"

"You also told me not to join the Marines, sir. I'm an adult, I can make my own decisions."

"Your decisions are going to get yourself killed, Michael!" John snapped.

"So what? At least I'll be helping people!"

"Your engineering skills help people!"

"Oh, yeah, sure they do," Mike scoffed. "What are you even doing here? Don't you have work, sir?"

"Oh, knock off that shit, Michael. I'm not going to stay at work when I hear you're in surgery again!" the doctor scolded.

"You did last time," Mike reminded quietly. John froze at that, realizing that he hadn't been there last time. A time when his adoptive son had needed him as much as he had when he was three years old and orphaned. Everyone had called him crazy when the twenty three year old doctor had taken in the poor child, hell, he was still an intern at the time. But he never regretted it.

"I'm sorry, Michael. But you also lied to me. You were planning to return to active duty?" John snapped, turning the guilt back around.

"Yes, sir. You had already shown your disapproval for my choice to enlist in the first place. I simply wished to avoid an argument," Mike replied, still not looking at the other man.

"I may not approve… but I won't start a fight about it with you."

"Again."

"Yeah. Again."

Mike let out a humorless chuckle that hurt his chest and lead to him coughing.

"Here, I brought you something," John suddenly said, putting a folded square of cloth on Mike's stomach. The marine looked down and grinned, ignoring his body's protest as he expertly tied it over his head.

"Thank you, sir."

"You're still mad at me, aren't you?" John sighed, a little hurt at Mike's refusal to call him Doc like he normally would.

"Yes, sir."

"Alright. I'll just let you run your temper, I suppose. I'm here until Sunday, then I have to go back. Don't make me drag your sorry ass back here if I catch you doing something stupid, is that understood."

"You know, I think you're a little biased."

"I'm not biased, you have terrible luck."

"I do not!"

"Should I start listing alphabetically or chronologically, Michael?"

"Ha ha, I will get up and throw you out, Doc. I've done it before."

"What, and you're just gonna start moving right after major surgery? Fat chance of that happening. Goodnight, Michael," John chuckled, walking out of the private room Mike was staying in.

Mike did not fall asleep though. He just continued to stare at the ceiling, ignoring his mind and body's protests at this. He had been given some drugs to help him sleep from the hospital, but he refused to take them. Besides, his body was too used to being awake at this time, listening for the sound of metal feet and creepy laughter and humming throughout a dark children's restaurant.

It seemed as though his mind was going to have a mind of its own, because the next thing he knew, he was sitting in an army jeep, joking around with his unit as they drove over the bumpy desert ground. Then he was upside down, blood pouring into his eyes and making tears run with them. He struggled to escape, but he could barely move. The seatbelt was stuck and compressing his chest. Then it broke, having been cut through by Bo, his best friend. They managed to pull themselves out, bloodied and worse for wear.

"_GRENADE!" he shouted as he saw it hit the sand, and he flew to the ground, covering his best friend with his own body and taking the shrapnel without thought. Without care. Bo and him had been together since boot camp, and he would be damned if he would die if Mike could do something about it. _

"_Mikey, come on, Schmidt! Damnit, Schmidt, you didn't just do that! Oh shit. Oh shit-" Bo spat at him, and then more pain filled Mike's chest. He couldn't see his attacker, his vision was too blurry. He was losing too much blood. _

"_B-Bo… Shit, Richards, I don't think I'm gonna make it," he managed, barely breathing. _

"_T-that makes two of us, Shmidt. My leg… bleeding out…" Bo admitted. _

"_N-no you're not," Mike growled, somehow managing to sit up and using his own bandana to cut off his friend's blood flow to the injured area. "Base, th-this is Lieutenant Schmidt. Our patrol h-has been ambushed. Unknown amount dead. Unknown amount injured. Requesting immediate medical aid, over," he stammered into the radio that had somehow survived the attack._

"_**Base to Lieutenant Schmidt, medical aid is on its way. Are you injured? Over."**_

"_Schmidt to b-base, I am injured, over."_

"_M-Mike, you're gonna make it."_

"_Yeah… m-maybe…"_

_This was where his memory turned into a nightmare as Bo's leg began to spurt out red liquid and the other marine convulsed, dying right before his eyes. His own breathing was becoming too hard of a task. So he stopped. He was dying. There was no luck in the world that could save him now. _

Mike's eyes snapped open and he sat up abruptly, doubling over from the pain in his chest. Right. Bad idea. He slowly laid back down, trying not to breathe too harshly. He looked to his left to see his faded blue jeans folded neatly on top of a pile of his other clothes. He reached over, cursing and gasping as he dug through the pockets to get his phone. He scrolled through his contacts until he found Bo's and pressed it, needing to speak with him.

"_Hey, Mikey, how are you? You know it's like, three in the morning, right?" _the wide awake Bo greeted after the second ring.

"Yeah. You're up, too."

"_I was about to call you, actually…" _

"What's up?"

"_Same thing as always. You?"_

"Same."

"_Man, we have got to meet up, soon. Doctor says that I should be walking again without even a limp in a couple of months. I have you to thank for that. Saving my leg the way you did."_

"Well, I needed someone to tell Doc that I died."

"_Oh, and you think I would go into the fire like that? No thank you, your old man's one scary guy."_

"You've met him once."

"_Yeah, man, and you were terrified of stepping out of line around him! I mean, you wouldn't even cross the road at anything but the crosswalk!"_

"Uh… yeah, okay, I see your point. So, other than the leg, how are you doing?"

"_I got a job offer at a team known as NEST. Ever heard of them?"_

"No, I can't say I have. You'll have to tell me about it when you get there."

"_I'm on ship there now. It's a long as trip, and for the first few weeks, I'm mostly gonna be recovering and getting used to walking again. They're shipping me out now because it's weird, supposedly. Really black opps stuff."_

"You are supposed to be a trained Marine, right?" Mike joked.

"_Hey, last time you called, you were going on about alien robots destroying your hospital room."_

Mike forced out a chuckle at that. "Yeah, I might have been a little drugged when I called you," he lied.

"_Well, glad you checked in. I was worried the past few days when you didn't call in."_

"You know me, Bo. Ain't nothing taking me down."

"_Famous last words."_

"Put them on my gravestone."

"_I can see your obituary now. Michael James Schmidt. November 23, 1984 to insert date, beloved son, honored friend, hero, soldier. Famous last words: Ain't nothing taking me down. Died from sacrificing himself instead of keeping himself safe and failed to save that person. Sounds about right, don't you think?"_

"Remind me to not let you speak at my funeral."

"_Ah, but I was writing down my speech right now!"_

"Tough luck, Bo Peep."

"_Mikey, you wound me!"_

"Get some sleep, jack ass."

"_Same to you. Talk to you in a few days, I guess."_

Mike hung up the phone and groaned. He hated lying to his friend. But his friend would flip if he knew what he had gone through and he wasn't there to beat some sense into the young Marine.

The next few days were quite boring, but Mike was healing at an unusually rapid rate. Doc went home, and Mike was finally allowed to be walking around. It was then that he met the Autobot Leader, Optimus Prime.

"Greeting, Lieutenant Schmidt."

"Just Mike, sir," Mike replied.

"As you wish. You may simply refer to me as Optimus. I am not your superior and you have no need to treat me as such."

"With all due respect, sir, and I think there is a lot due, I think it's best to treat any competent soldier with respect, so long as they aren't being arrogant bastards, sir," Mike denied.

"As you wish, Mike."

"Is there a reason you requested to see me, sir?"

"Yes… I have two choices to offer you that will affect your future. One, you can sign a confidentiality paper and go home, never to breathe a word as to what you have seen here, and you will be accompanied by a guardian at all times, or you can stay and work with NEST."

Mike balked at that. "N-NEST? Wait, this is NEST?"

"You have heard of it?" Optimus asked, concerned. It had only been created a month ago, roughly.

"My friend is a Marine. He was invited to join SHIELD and is on a ship here now…"

"I see. Your friend must trust you very much," Optimus commented, not sounding as concerned now.

"Um… Can I sleep on it, sir?" Mike asked, wanting time to go over his choices and compare the pros and cons of it.

"Of course. That is, assuming, you will actually sleep," Optimus answered, smiling knowingly. Mike stared at him in shock.

"Thank you, sir… I will try to sleep, I swear," Mike said.

"I await your answer," Optimus dismissed, having little doubt to which answer the Marine would choose.

Mike nodded and walked away, pulling out his phone and answering it as it began to ring. "Hello?"

"_MIKE! Hey, it's Mr. Fazbear! I was, uh, wondering if you knew what happened to the animatronics…"_

"Uh, Mr. Fazbear, I haven't been in the country since I quit," Mike answered in confusion.

"_I see… It's just that, ever since you left, they've been… irritable… They don't like losing their game…"_

"YOU KNEW ABOUT THAT AND YOU DIDN'T CARE TO WARN ME?" Mike shouted into his phone.

"_Of course I know about the game, Mike. I run the place. It's not like the night guards are ever noticed when they go missing. So long as my business doesn't get connected with it, I'm not going to do anything about it. But Mike, they've killed five night guards in a week. They aren't even playing with the guards anymore. They're just going in there and killing them, even after six."_

"Why are you calling me about it?"

"_Because if you don't come back to play, they have an appointment with a certain doctor that I'm sure you wouldn't want meeting them."_

Mike froze. He had only walked about ten feet from Optimus in this time, and the Prime could easily hear the conversation even if he had been half a mile away.

Mike hung up the phone and turned around, worry and determination in his eyes. "I need a ride to the states."

"What do you plan to do?"

"I'm going to spend one more night at Freddy's, and I'm going to end this. I'm so sick and tired of that place, if it burned to the ground, I wouldn't care… did you hear what he said?"

"Barricade is apprehending him now."

"Great."

"Would you like assistance?"

"No. This is personal. I'm going to handle it… personally."

It was a flash of noise and color as Mike was flown at top speed back to his hometown and he stalked into the restaurant. Black, eyeless beings greeted him, all leering.

"_**Miiiiikeeeeey! You came baaaaaaaack!"**_

"You sons of bitches, why are you doing this?" Mike demanded.

Freddy stepped off the stage, but Mike wasn't having any of it, he dashed into the security office and slammed the door down behind him. He pulled off the generator he had strapped to his back, and set it up. There was no way he was losing power tonight.

Heavy fists pounded on the military grade security doors, and Freddy's face glared from the window.

"_**You will die!"**_

"Bite me!"

"_**We already did that."**_

"Oh, so you remember me?" Mike asked.

"_**We remember every child to walk through the doors. You were special, Mikey. Goldie wanted you. But you didn't die. You need to die. Goldie wants you."**_

"Who the hell is 'Goldie'? Mike demanded.

"_**He is."**_

Mike turned to stare in horror at the limp, bloodstained suit that just stared at him. He stumbled and hit his head on the metal door when the bloody words flashed in his mind. IT'S ME!

"Why me?"

"_**MINE!"**_ it shrieked moving and jumping towards him, only to pass right through. It screamed angrily, fading away as though it had never been there. Mike gasped for air, feeling as though he had just been punched in the gut. With a truck. He pulled up his shirt stared at the forming bruise on his abdomen. It was painful and so very, very real.

"You leave me alone, you creepy bastard!" he shouted defiantly, jumping at the angry thumping on the other door.

"_**Miiiiiiiikeeeeey! Don't ye want ta play?"**_

"You know, you used to be my favorite, Foxy. Now I wish you would just go back to whatever hell you came from!"

"_**Open the door, Mikey. Make it easy on yourself. If you don't, we will kill Doctor Schmidt!" **_Freddy threatened.

"_**Just like we did your parents."**_

"Why? Why does Goldie want me?"

"_**Goldie wants a pet and he wants you."**_

"Oh, is that all? Well, tell him he can go fuck himself!" Mike shouted.

"_**Open the door, Mikey! You need to die so Goldie can make you like us!"**_

"Did no one tell you that NO means NO?"

"_**You can't hide in there forever, Mikey! Six o'clock, and the doctor dies!"**_

"_**Mikey, we be quick abou' it, just a snap of yer neck, ye won't feel a thin'!" **_Foxy promised.

"How about you do that to yourself?"

"_**How do ye think we was made, Mikey?" **_Foxy laughed. Mike realized that, yes, they would have had to be human at some point.

"Well, think about this. I don't want to join your little club, Foxy."

"_**Ye don't be having a choice, lad! Ye can open the door an' be done with it, or ye can suffer! Ye don't want ta suffer, lad, do ya?"**_

"I'd rather suffer," Mike sneered, turning on the light by both doors. The power to everywhere but the security room went out, the cameras cutting out and everything. Freddy stared in shock at the still closed door. "Yeah, the door ain't opening. I'm not playing your little game anymore, Fazfuck!"

"_**Then say goodbye to Doctor Schmidt," **_Freddy sneered right back, and suddenly the unconscious man was held up against the window, blood caking his head.

Mike gasped and turned his head away as Freddy slammed him against the window again. "D-doc, I'm so sorry," he sobbed.

"_**Mikey, you can put a stop to this. You can make his death quick. Just open the door."**_

"What, and have both of us be dead?" Mike demanded brokenly.

"_**Mikey, watch or I'll draw it out even more!" **_Freddy ordered. "_**You passed up my last deals. Your death will be slow and torturous, and I am going kill this man, and you will watch. If you don't, I'll kill you in his blood and you will not die for DAYS!"**_

Mike sobbed and looked up, watching as Freddy slammed John Schmidt into the window again and the skull caved, spattering the bear and window in even more blood.

"_**Whoopsies. Too hard. Already dead. Pity. You are next."**_

"N-not happening, you sick bastard. You just killed him. How do you plan on getting me out now?"

"_**You are human. You are weak."**_

Mike didn't answer, simply sank into his chair. To be perfectly honest, he had planned to sneak in before midnight, get Doc out, and then burn the place down behind him. Such a good plan. It had gone so wrong. Now he was trapped here, and that generator couldn't last forever, as much as he wished it would. At most, it could last a week before burning out, and by then he would be dead from either lack of sleep, or dehydration. If that didn't kill him, then he would be too weak to fight back, anyways.

"The only way I am coming out of this room and you are still here is if I am in a body bag," he finally said.

"_**That is fine. We need you dead anyway. I hear that starvation is a very… painful… way to die."**_

"_**MINE!"**_ Goldie screeched from another part of the building.

Mike closed his eyes, grieving for his loss as the night passed and day came and he tried to think of a plan. The power came back on, giving his generator a relief from the constant strain, but Mike was tired and he hungry, and he wasn't sure if he could even stand because it felt like the whole world was pressing in on him. He had failed. He had screwed up so badly. He never should have insisted that he go in alone. He was too chicken to call in for help, too, so unless the bots were just waiting for him to fail and save him, he doubted he would make it out of this alive. He thought back to his conversation with Bo.

"**Ain't nothing taking me down. Died sacrificing himself to save someone instead of keeping himself safe and failed to save that person. Sounds about right, don't you think?"**

"Bo, if only you knew how right you were," Mike murmured quietly. He began to move items around the office, in a seemingly random fashion. He realized that no one was coming into the restaurant. Was it closed? Fazbear never- oh… Mr. Fazbear had been arrested. No one was there to open the building.

"You know, they're gonna shut this place down, and you're gonna all get scrapped," Mike said to no one in particular.

"_**What a mean thing to say, Mikey. I don't like you. You're mean. Why can't you just be a nice, good guard and open the door. It doesn't hurt as bad as it sounds," **_the high pitched voice of Chica whined.

"Go play with your pans in the kitchen, Chica," Mike ordered. "And think long and hard about what I said. You are all going to get scrapped and there is nothing you can do to me that will change that."

Hours later, he heard shouting, gunshots, and then silence.

"_**Miiiiikeeeeey! The police are here…! We already killed five of them! Only two left! It was so much fun! Do you want to come see them?"**_

"Stop hurting people, Bonnie! Just stop!"

His phone began to ring and he shakily answered. It was Bo. "H-hey, Bo."

"_Don't you dare go with those sons of bitches, Mikey. Don't you dare. We'll be fine."_

"Bo, w-what are you-"

"_Well, the plan was to storm the place and rescue you, but that didn't work out very well… They're crafty assholes, I'll give them that," _Bo admitted.

"B-but, your leg…"

"_I'm fine, Mikey. Just stay in that room. Don't come out."_

"Bo, th-they'll kill you. They're going to kill you, Bo…"

"_What, you think that they're just going to let us go because they have you? I'm going to die either way. Might as well do it saving your sorry ass… D-did you find your old man?"_

"They killed him… They killed him right in front of me… Bo… I can't lose you, too. You're my best friend. You're like a brother to me. I lost my dad. I can't lose my brother, too…" Mike sobbed. Yes, he was a Marine. He could kill you five ways to sundown. But that didn't matter because he had lost everything to these monsters and he was going to keep losing it.

"_**Miiiiikeeeeey! O-"**_

"Alright, listen here, Fazfuck. Let them go. Let them go, all the way out the door, lock the door behind them, and once I hear from them that they are safe, out of harm's way, then I'll open the damn door," Mike declared.

"_Mike? Schmidt, what the hell are you thinking? They're going to kill you! You can't ju-"_

"Bo, I'm not failing a second time. I'm not letting them kill another person that I love. Do good at NEST. Don't get stepped on or anything. If I find out that you're getting all depressed, I'm coming back and haunting your ass," Mike interrupted.

"_Mikey… why?"_

"I'm a Marine. My job is to greet death with open arms if the job requires it. Semper fi."

"_S-semper fi, Mikey… s-see you on the flip side."_

Mike listened as Bo was ordered out of the restaurant and then, ten minutes of muffled noise, Bo was speaking again.

"_We're clear, Mikey… Good luck."_

Mike took a deep breath, pressing the door button and sending it up to face the grinning animatronics that were all gathered there.

"Well? Door's open. Come and get me, assholes," he said, pressing the other button and running through it. He heard the thump as the door slapped back to the ground as soon as he was clear, trapping the animatronics within. It wouldn't last long, they would be able to figure out what he had done pretty quickly, and then Foxy would be able to chase him down pretty fast. So he ran, not looking back. He twisted the key into the door as he opened it, making it so it would lock behind him. The door was almost closed when a metal hook shot through it, not connected to anything but still deadly. It struck Mike in the head, through scars and stopping as it hit bone. Blood spurted onto the pavement and the Marine's eyes rolled up into his head as angry animatronics banged on the door futilely. He made sure to press a button that was in his hand, and a loud explosion shook the ground as the security room combusted into flames that spread throughout the building like wild fire. Unbeknownst to him, Bo and Barricade, who had been the other 'cop' that was there, grabbed him and pulled him away to safety. Ratchet, who was sitting at their under the guise of being the emergency vehicle, and was the emergency vehicle, opened his doors and set to work on removing the hook. The Marine would get a new scar on his head, but it was hardly something that he could complain about when the alternative was death.

Mike opened his eyes, grinning at Bo when he saw him. "Told you ain't nothing going to take me down."

"I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD, MIKEY! DEAD! A LITTLE WARNING WOULD HAVE BEEN NICE!"

"They couldn't know that I was planning to escape. Hell, I barely made it out as it was. Did it burn?"

"Oh yeah, it burned. Nothing is left, what did you USE?"

"That nifty little thing a kid made last time I was there. Made it blow up. Boom. Nothing left. Animatronic remains?"

"Freddy's was found in the office, Chica's was found in the the kitchen, probably to make sure you hadn't tried that door. Bonny was in the backroom, most likely to catch you if you tried to double back, and Foxy was obviously in the dining room. All destroyed beyond repair… We also found the remains of a Golden Freddy suit. Made some pretty weird noises when it was going. Kept saying that you needed to die because you were their's."

"Goldie… yeah, that's why they were trying to kill me… Something about Goldie wanting me as… what did Fazfuck say… a pet… Who keeps a human as a pet? A human would make a terrible pet, especially a dead one," Mike groaned. "Oh, uh, since I doubt that I'm going to be up and moving for a little bit, tell the big guy that I accept his offer for taking down demon robots. Might as well keep up the hobby."

"No. No way in hell am I going to sit by and let you ge-"

"Bo. It's NEST. That's what NEST does. Take down Decepticons. I'd be working with YOU, you idiot. Perfect way to keep an eye on me, don't you think?" Mike interrupted.

"He's not the only one that will be doing so," Barricade growled protectively. "Of course, that is if Prime allows me to."

"I'm sure he will," Ratchet commented as he stepped into the med bay, Optimus Prime close behind him.

"I am actually ordering it, Barricade. There is no debate about it. Mike, I expect that you do not go to such… extremes every time you go on a mission."

"Don't worry about it, sir. It only happens when it's personal."

"Indeed. If you would like, we can pay for your father's funeral."

"Nah… He told me that if I tried to hold a funeral for him when he died, he would come back and haunt me, then kill me and tell me what an idiot I am… he wanted to be cremated and his ashes to be spread at a place he made a difference… That's kind of what he got… That's where I met him, and that's where he left me… Open at the close Harry Potter stuff and all."

"So, that started out immature, became mature, and then went back to immature in five seconds," Bo sighed.

"Hey, at least I'm not babbling about giant robots breaking my hospital room," Mike snickered.

"Shut up. That's not funny. Seriously. Maybe you should take a job that doesn't have anything electronic, because mechanical stuff and you don't mix."

"Pshh, why would that stop me? Life's no fun if there's no risk, Bo!"

"I think it's fun! I like not dying!"

"You are dying," Mike argued cynically.

"You're going to die first!"

"Am not."

"Are, too!"

"Nope! I'm going to live until I'm like ninety years old and then pass away in my sleep. Nice and boring," Mike assured.

"Not likely."

"I agree with Sergeant Richards. You will not live past thirty with the rate you're going."

"So, in eight years, you're gonna eat your words, you know that, right?"

"I'll buy the beer if you make it to your thirty first birthday, okay, Mikey?"

"Deal."

They left the room and Mike blinked, his eyes going from pale blue to white as he smiled. White mist rose from his body as the spirits trapped within rose up. Four of the five children that had been murdered and then grew up, somehow, as spirits. Finally free from that murderer that had been trying to get them back for years.

"**Thank you, Mikey! You set us free! We can go home now," **the one that had been shoved into the Freddy suit said.

"**Good luck with your life, Mikey! Don't forget to have fun!"** the woman that had embodied Chica gushed.

The man that had been Bonnie simply nodded to him and stepped back.

"**Mikey, I am so sorry for what I did. I didn't mean to. But we needed someone to get us out, and we were going to pass through you. Goldie took control and made Foxy bite down, but you didn't die! You lived, and you set us free. Thank you so much for that. If something ever tried to kill you again, don't worry. You'll have us fighting with you, too. You will never be alone. Oh, and Doctor Schmidt and Mr. and Mrs. Fitzgerald said that they are so proud of you and that they never could have asked for a better son. We're sorry for taking them, too…" **the man that had lived within Foxy apologized. He no longer had the accent, but it didn't really change the feel that was given when he spoke.

"**You're welcome… I'm glad I could help,"** Mike replied, and he blinked again, the mist fading and his eyes returning to blue. He only ever experienced it once again, the strange, out of body experience, but when he was finally cleared for active duty, and he was going up against 'Cons and humans alike, soldiers would swear there were four others fighting at his back, and white mist surrounded him until he looked non corporeal, like a ghost himself. But it was gone by the end of the battle, and the cameras never seemed to work around him.

Mike lived passed his thirty first birthday, past his ninetieth. He passed his two hundredth, and no one could figure out why the ancient being still looked twenty three. Until the spirits returned, in the middle of the base, and looked at him apologetically.

"_**Mikey, we didn't mean to!" **_Chica said quickly.

"_**Didn't mean to what?" **_Mike asked, the soldiers he had been training freezing where they stood.

"_**We may have… made the mistake of cursing you when you were a child and Foxy bit you…" **_Freddy admitted.

"_**Cursed me? Like magic and stuff?"**_

"_**If thinking about you that way helps you sleep at night, Mikey, then yeah, think of it as magic. We may have… made it impossible for you to die, Mikey… We didn't want Goldie getting to you, and that intent… saved your life and, well… ended your death."**_

"_**For… forever?"**_

"_**Yeah, Mikey…"**_

Mike's eyes returned to normal and he blinked in sorrow. "Dismissed, all of you. I'm sure Ironhide has drills you can do…" he ordered, turning away from the shell shocked soldiers that raced out of the room, reporting what they had just seen to Optimus Prime.

The large Prime, along with his young, ever present human companion, walked over to him, bending down and touching the Marine's should with concern.

"We heard what they told you, Mike," Sam said softly. He also hadn't aged a day since his encounter with the All Spark. "It must be awful to hear it like that."

"Well, that would explain why I'm stuck," Mike agreed. "I mean, I stopped growing, so I stopped aging because that was killing me… Yeah… Well, long lives aren't really all they're cracked up to be…"

"Bo is coming to visit," Sam reminded, hoping to bring the Marine out of his depression he was falling in. Before, he had held onto his hope that he would be able to join his family… someday. Now that hope was squashed.

"Yeah…"

Bo had died at the ripe age of one hundred and two with three sons and a daughter. His children had had children, and those children had had children, and they had kids, one of them had had a kid and named him Bo in honor of his great, great, great, grandfather. Bo occasionally came to the base to see his 'Uncle Mikey', and that was good enough for Mike.

"How old is he now?"

"Seventeen. They grow up so fast, don't they?" Mike asked.

"Yeah… They go even quicker, it seems," Sam agreed.

"You still have us," Optimus interjected, like he had many times before.

"Yeah… we know, big guy. You only remind us every five minutes," Mike joked. "But I think you have a bit of an advantage of us over the situation. You came here and you befriended us with the knowledge you would live eons past us… we grew up thinking we'd die with our family around us… Not… watch them all grow up and burn out so quickly and not be able to do anything about it…"

Optimus nodded his head sadly. They had lost many friends, gained more, and lost them all over again in an endless cycle. Ironhide still guarded the Lennox family, Barricade guarded the Richards, Ratchet watched over the Epps line, and Bumblebee looked over the Banes bloodline. When Sam had found out that he would outlast everyone he knew, he refused to settle down. He couldn't take the thought of having a kid and watching them grow up and die while he remained the same.

"Bo!" Mike said as a well built, lazy smiled brunette walked over to them, hugging his uncle happily.

"Hey, old man! Been awhile, how you been?" the teen asked.

"Busy. How's school?"

"Boring as ever. I'm studying for finals right now. If I pass, I can graduate at the end of this year and start college this summer!"

"No girls catch your eyes?"

"Dude, not something you ask about!" Bo groaned, face going red. Mike laughed and half hugged his nephew, leading him away from the large bot and immortal teen.

"He'll be okay, OP," Sam assured.

"I know… Your kind is very good at adapting to loss."

"We have to be when everything is always trying to kill us," Sam agreed. "That is… just another adaptation, I suppose."

"The human lifespan has greatly increased, though. A man celebrated his one hundred and fiftieth birthday yesterday. The average is one hundred and thirty years. In an eon or so, it could be five hundred years of life," Optimus said optimistically.

"Yeah… but that's just gonna make it hurt worse."

"Indeed it will."

"But we'll survive. It's what we do."

"Indeed."

"Come on, we have a meeting in ten minutes and it's with that one politician that never listens to a word anyone says. I think Sunny and Sides said that they were going to prank him, and I want to see it," Sam said. Optimus chuckled and shook his helm, walking away towards the meeting room.


	2. Paris Message

_**THIS IS NOT A CHAPTER UPDATE!**_

**_Hello, everyone. Wolfy here. _**

**_I am posting this chapter to address that tragedy that happened yesterday, November 13, 2015, in Paris. I am an American, and I was too young to remember 9/11, so I cannot imagine what those of you that were there, or anyone that has been victims of ISIS attacks, can be feeling. But I thought that I should remind everyone that dividing and setting against each other is not what we should be doing right now. I want to remind you that blaming someone else may be the easy way out. You want a face to turn your anger towards, or something more substantial and bigger than a cowardly terrorist organization that preys on those that in no way deserve what happened to them. Do not blame Muslims or people from Islam. They, too, are feeling the pain of what happened. _**

**_Please do not try to start a war against them. Do you remember learning about World War Two? How Hitler blamed the Jews for all of Germany's problems? How he convinced the public that doing so would make everything better?_**

**_Nothing gets better by discriminating someone in a broad stereotype like saying a certain religion is all Evil. It is like saying all Christians are part of the KKK, or all Atheists are Satan-worshiping cannibals. (On a side note, where did that even come from?)_**

**_The thing that I'm trying to say is that this is not about religion. This is about mad men trying to cause panic and distrust in the people of the world. A house divided against itself cannot stand, and today, we are a house that had been shaken to its foundation. We cannot break apart today, or any day, for that means that the terrorist will have another victory._**

**_I say victory not in the sense of great accomplishment, or great glory, but in the context of fulfilling a goal. _**

**_They want us to be scared._**

**_They want us to panic._**

**_That's how cowards work, you see. They break down the bigger power, the power of love, loyalty, compassion and unity that we hold for each other, and keep breaking you down until you can't hope to rise against them. _**

**_I hope that I speak for a lot of people in saying that I refuse to break down and bow to the scare tactics of ISIS and their actions, and refuse to live in fear of them. I do not pray to any God, but I hope with all my heart that anyone affected by this tragedy, whether directly or just touched by it in their souls, will recover and not direct the blame towards anyone but those behind this horrific even that is sure to go down in infamy. _**

**_Thank you for taking the time to read this, and I apologize that this is not an update to any story. I am putting this in all of my stories, and I hope that it will help in any way they can. _**

**_Sincerely,_**

**_Wolfrunner99-2_**


End file.
